


Tantamount

by knightenchantress



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightenchantress/pseuds/knightenchantress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen relapses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tantamount

Title: Tantamount  
Rating: T  
Pairing: Cullen/Lavellan  
Warnings: Drug Addiction

Cullen relapses.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Running interference on Cullen was proving exhausting, Leliana finally admitted to herself as she received another report from her agents.

The Inquisitor had approached her two months ago with a rather sensitive topic. Although the Inquisitor gave nothing away, Leliana was good at her job, she filled in the blanks herself. The Inquisitor had stood before her, merely requesting that while she was gone should any of her network stationed here at Skyhold find Cullen too close to the lyrium storage they were to distract him or declare his presence was desperately needed elsewhere.

At first it had worked, the commander, desperate to save face, would agree and go along with whatever the messenger threw at him. A meeting with Josephine, a message from the Inquisitor, anything to get him away from his singular goal.

However, the longer his withdrawal from lyrium went on, the more desperate and cunning he became. While apothecary caught on quickly, even they had handed over lyrium for some excuse he had given them.

Leliana had done her research on addictions, but having it come from a dear friend, their revered commander? It was almost impossible not to turn a blind eye, as she found some of her messengers doing.

 _'If it helps him, why not let him have it?'_ They’d protest when her rage turned upon them.

 _'How about you tell that to the Inquisitor when she asks why her commander is continuously relapsing due to our complacency.'_ That would silence them quickly; the wrath of their stern Inquisitor was not something anyone wanted directed at them.

From outside the lyrium storage, Leliana waited, listening to the muted rustling of papers and tinny clinking of bottles. Her chest tightened when she heard a vial pop open, and breathed in the stink of metal wafting from under the doors.

Dropping her head into her hands, Leliana knew it was time to talk to the Inquisitor, who had just returned a few hours ago. Maker forgive her, she could not do this anymore.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

At her desk, ignoring the enormous stack of papers and gifts she’d received while away, the Inquisitor stared at the letter Leliana’s messenger had just dropped off.

 _'I failed.'_  Was all it said, and her eyes closed as she took a very deep breath. Nothing more needed to be said.

Whipping around she strode to the balcony overlooking the Frostback Mountains, and willed herself calm. Returning from Griffon Wing Keep, who had sighted some activity from Adamant fortress in the last few months, she had worked closely with Commander Rylen to determine the best course of activity.

It all proved for naught however, seemingly the moment their presence had been made known, all activity ceased. A bitter waste of two months on that front.

Swearing heavily, Lavellan had known he would not be able to handle the immense heat of the Western Approach, but clearly leaving him behind had not helped one bit.

Admittedly, she’d also known leaving Cullen to his own devices would prove a challenge, the temptation of that much lyrium in Skyhold almost too seductive for his fragile mental state. She’d taken a gamble with his mind, and he’d paid the heavy price.

Taking in one last breath of the icy air she loved so much, Lavellan turned away and made for the stairs.  _It was time they had a talk._

Based on the information Leliana’s messenger left with her, she knew at this hour where she’d find him. Lavellan set off for the lyrium stores, ignoring the night's cold wind, and the tension welling in her throat.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Although the mage tower had originally held the Inquisition’s lyrium, a freak accident that blew a hole in one floor had changed that much to the apprentice's chagrin. Lyrium was now stored far under the hold in a reinforced chamber only a few people had keys to, guarded constantly by both a mage and a templar.

 _Who were both off drinking at the tavern draped in each others arms,_ she assumed dryly, as the door was left completely unguarded to all that walked by.

Her magic immediately picked up on the lyrium stink permeating the chambers, begging her to tap into what lies in those small vials.

Carefully extracting her keys, she fingered the lock until a sudden rustling came from inside, a resorting of tinkling vials. Suddenly, the door creaked open, and out came her commander, devoid of his armor and cloak, thinner than she’d left him.

Cullen froze upon seeing who awaited him.

"Inquisitor I - ah, I was not expecting to find you here," he stammered through pleasantries, but she merely swept her stern eyes over the flustered man, taking in the purple ringed eyes, the stained shirt, quickened pulse, and the faint blue leaking from the corners of his lips.

She reached up to silence him, swiping one corner of his mouth, and like a hanged man Cullen crumpled before her, weeping.

Lavellan closed her eyes tightly, unable to bear a moment of seeing him cry. Dropping to her knees, she took the much larger man in her arms, and let his head drop onto her shoulder. With a hand she waved the door closed, locking and enchanting it. When the guards got back, she’d know. There were words to be exchanged.

But despite her anger at their negligence, the failure did not rest with them. It did not rest with Leliana, and, Maker help her, not even with herself. It rest with Cullen, it always had. She cannot carry this burden for him as much as she wished she could.

He was a heavy man, hunched awkwardly over the small elf, but the change in just the two months she’d been gone was noticeable. His body had a slight tremor underneath his wracking sobs, brow slick with sweat. She doubted he could even hold a shield up in this state, those times far behind him now.

She stroked his back, this man she loved so dearly, and whispered in elvhan how she was here for him, her words warbling as tears pricked her eyes. They stayed just like that for however long, until Lavellan could not tell who was crying deeper.

Eventually, Cullen's sobs quieted to soft whimpers, his body relaxing into hers. When he lifted his head off her shoulder, Lavellan regarded him, a face slicked with saltwater and a trail of mucus. “I’m - I’m so sorry let me-” he began, words hoarse from crying. Lavellan waved him off, with a careful hand wiping his face, sadly regarding the emerging tremble in his lip over her action.

"Come, let’s go to my room," Lavellan ordered, throwing his arm around her shoulder, helping him to his feet. "But people _will_ \- " Cullen was beginning to slur, he had taken way too much lyrium, "the patrols.."

"Are not going to look this way, I assure you," she murmured, tone leaving no room for argument.

The limp back to her room was silent, save for the wind howling, and Cullen’s rasping breaths, trying to calm to dread tightening in his stomach.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Cullen stumbled up the stairs, having at last made it away from anyone’s prying eyes. The only person whose opinion mattered right now was patiently holding him upright still, waiting for him to gather his bearings.

He knew he had failed, and he knew it’d probably cost him her. After everything he had so carefully built with her, this relapse would send it all crashing down, his ringing head whispered.

How she knew where to find him he could only guess, cringing in embarrassment over being caught in the act, over all the excitement he had felt when she left, at last able to dip back into lyrium, become the commander the Inquisition needed him to be.

_The man Lavellan deserved._

"As you know, my clan - until recently - lived high upon the frozen mountains to the north," she began, carefully seating Cullen on the edge of her bed. Lavellan turned away and began lighting the lamps in her room, closing the balcony doors. Cullen watched her with a resigned eye, shoulders slumped.

"It is a blizzard almost all year, and my people lived on the edge of death constantly, shivering, starvation, and desperation was our lives," Lavellan had not regarded him yet, but the dread in his stomach was burning into fear the longer she did not face him.

_'Please look at me, I'm so sorry I'm so sorry.'_

"Things were desperate, so my Keeper and the healers came up with a solution, of a way to stave off some of the cold so we could be productive enough to forage for food, build sturdier homes. A means to an end," Lavellan went to one of her nightstands and began rummaging through the drawers. She straightened, holding a vial with a soft yellow glow, orange flecks shimmering back at him.

"Our healers eventually developed a crude potion to keep our bodies warm long enough to get things done, and at first it worked. We thrived then hibernated, our homes were built strong enough to endure the cold, and we would hunt to keep our reserves up. Life was great for once," Lavellan pressed the vial into Cullen’s hand, her cold fingers sending a shiver through him. But the vial, the vial was warm, and he clung to that heat like a rope.

"However, when the healers stopped production, their job done and to conserve supplies, many were not... entirely pleased. They had formed an addiction to the feeling this potion had given them. The warmth, in such a harsh life, was intoxicating, an escape from our grueling lives. Several lives were lost due to the clan’s apathy, to suicide, to murder, all over their addiction to a feeling they could not keep."

Lavellan, so small compared to him he barely had to lift his head to catch her eyes, quietly asked, “Cullen, who was responsible for my clan’s actions?”

Cullen swallowed, his tongue dry and the lyrium left behind burning like poison.

"The healers," he hurried, looking away from her eyes, "if - if they hadn't stopped production, if, if they had just reduced the supply.." he closed his eyes, unable to believe his own words. Being caught by his lov- his superior - was so humiliating he could barely concentrate.

Lavellan gave nothing away, “But why are the healers to blame? Why did those people deserve to die? Should I punish Skyhold’s healers for making the lyrium potions you can’t have?” She reached for his hand, and he flinched under her touch.

"Cullen," her voice finally softens, "life presents us with situations we don’t always have control over, it is up to us to make the most of them. My people for a time became addicted to a substance that was meant to help us, just like you are with lyrium." Lavellan catches his chin, turning his head so gently he was unable to look away from the brilliance of her ocean eyes.

"But life happens, and you are left with the scars of a life you want to leave, that is on you," she stroked his cheek with the softest finger, "I am more than aware of what you've done while I've been gone," he looked away, so ashamed tears pricked at his eyes.

"Cullen, you must take everything, including your failures. Maker knows I’d help you if I could, but I can’t. I can’t and I’m  _so sorry_ ,” her ever steady voice cracks, and Cullen wishes he could just  _die_  right then.

"You can do this, Cullen. I’m here for you, we all are. But you need to be there for yourself as well." Shaking, Cullen took her hand in his, clutching reverently to her as a shudder of both relief and shame went through him. Lavellan pauses, pressing her forehead to his, and he feels her skin cooling his feverish body like rain on desert sands.

"I’m not telling you anything you don’t know, but no matter how much interference I run, or how much we encourage you, you will do what you want," Lavellan wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, and like permission was granted, Cullen pulled her towards him and fell backwards onto the bed. Cullen absentmindedly toed off his boots, feeling Lavellan do the same.

"Remember all those months ago? When I asked what you wanted?" her words were soft against his neck, "what did you tell me?"

Cullen sighed heavily, running his tired hand along the lonely line of her back, “I told you.. I want to be free of it.”

_I want you to be proud to have me by your side._

Lavellan could not hear his thoughts, but she nestled close to him all the same. Their bodies fit so perfectly, her small feet moving across his shins, his large arms around her thin shoulders.

"Start spending the nights here with me," she whispered suddenly into his neck, "live your nights here, not alone."

Cullen swallowed, smoothing her hair carefully, _'she is more than I’ll ever deserve.'_  ”I.. I will send for my things tomorrow morning,” he places a breath’s kiss to her crown.

Lavellan sought his mouth in the darkness, and chastely kissed his dry lips, the tang of lyrium still on them. It only lasted a moment, but he pursed his lips against hers, dedicating her taste to his memory under the cover of night.

"Tomorrow morning," she echoed, a breath away, "we will speak more then. For now, rest," she withdrew, and Cullen felt tears threatening to return again. He then felt her breath back on his neck, bedding herself further into his arms like a cat. In a few steady breaths, Lavellan was asleep.

As the lyrium singing through his veins ran its course, Cullen lay awake for the longest time. His eyes watched the moonlight move across the floor, counting her soft breaths, until sleep took him too.

 

 


End file.
